


But They Will Fade

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash 100 Kinks Cycle [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Community: femslash100, Established Relationship, F/F, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’ll never understand us,” Marin says. Her voice hardly reaches above a whisper, but even as Lydia lies in burning pain, she hears her clearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But They Will Fade

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kinks Drabble Cycle prompt #29: Whipped.

“They’ll never understand us,” Marin says. Her voice hardly reaches above a whisper, but even as Lydia lies in burning pain, she hears her clearly.

She turns her head just a bit so her sweaty cheek moves to a cool spot on the pillow. The candles burn low so passersby will not know Goody Morrell is treating the witch in her own home. If they knew what the goodwife and the witch did in _total_ darkness, beneath the blankets, on the bedrolls, they’d do much more than whip Lydia at the post.

“Why?” Lydia’s own voice is hoarse from screaming and from their torch smoke.

“Because,” Marin says, wringing out the bloody cloth in her bucket and returning it to the lashes on Lydia’s bare back, “we know things that they never will.”

Lydia squeezes her eyes shut. She longs for Marin’s lips on her skin instead of her healing hands on her back, for her older lover’s tender touch on places besides her marred flesh. “I am not a witch.”

“Nor am I,” Marin says plainly, face betraying no emotion. “But we are something, and that frightens them.”

As she wills away the pain and listens to Marin’s soothing voice, Lydia feels her throat burn with a scream, her ears ring with the voices of the dead. The room smells of lavender and blood and the burnt-sugar taint of magic.

_Perhaps I am a witch after all_ , Lydia thinks, and sinks into a painful slumber beneath Marin’s cool hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the persecution of women accused of "witchcraft" in 1690's New England, though does not reflect any specific event.


End file.
